


Silence

by Star_dancer54



Series: Dear god old stuff. Like, seriously old. [15]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-01
Updated: 2002-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_dancer54/pseuds/Star_dancer54
Summary: It's been silent ever since he left.





	Silence

Silence

Silence. That's all I hear when I enter the small apartment. It's been silent ever since he left. I toss my case and other work stuff to the side of the door. He's no longer here to correct me, to pick up my briefcase and set it on the small table next to the door. He's no longer here to kiss me gently on the lips, to slowly let his tongue enter my mouth and change the simple kiss to something more. I no longer see him walking sedately from the kitchen, where he's cooking a simple meal, that always tastes better because I know he cares.

He's been gone for some time. I wonder if I'll ever see him again. It shouldn't matter, but it does. I've fallen for him, hard.

No loud music blaring in the living room. No tantalizing smells from the kitchen. No soft touches to calm me down after a hard day at work. No gentle embraces when I have a nightmare. No teasing smiles when he catches me watching him shower. No passionate kisses in the middle of the night. It's all gone.

I close and lock the door, setting the keys on the small table. I brush a strand of hair from my eyes and try not to think about it. There's some food in the fridge I'll have for dinner. Also another full bottle. But first, I have to pee.

I step into the bathroom. There aren't any dirty towels on the floor from his shower before I got home. There isn't any fog clouding up the mirror. I take care of my business and wash my hands. No slender fingers wrap themselves around my hands as I clean them. No slightly pointed chin rests on my shoulder, no bright eyes peering over my shoulder into mine through the mirror. Just me. Well, me and my thoughts.

I walk out of the bathroom into the kitchen. No warming meal rests on the table. No pert, wriggling rear greets my glance at the refrigerator. Just the cold white of the door and a single picture of all of us. I open the fridge and scrounge around. I find some fried rice from last night's takeout and pop it in the microwave. I pull out one of the beers from the top shelf of the fridge and pop the top. I take a swig and the microwave beeps. I open it and a gust of warm rice air fills my nose. I carefully take out the dish and set it on the table. I sit down and begin to eat, occasionally taking another drink from the beer. Not gentle reprimand about my drinking preference. No graceful fingers with chopsticks snagging the rice a little at a time. No disgusted face at the texture of the rice.

Someone's fiddling with the door. I glance up, food and drink forgotten. A key jangles, and I fly from the table to greet him.

Weary dark blue eyes smile at me as my own blue eyes light up. "You're home," I breathe. His lips lift in a small smile that warms my heart.

"Miss me?"

I wrap my arms around his narrow waist and notice he's lost weight. "Feels like an eternity since I saw you last."

He chuckles and wraps his own arms around my body. "Same here. Love you."

"Love you too."


End file.
